“I’ve just
come from the West,” snapped Gildinwen, “I’ve been on the road for twelve
days.”

“What do you
want?” subdued but still suspicious.

“A ship for
the North, is there still one?”

“Aye,
they’re loading the last one now.”

“I need to
be on it.”

“It’s for
the battlefield, what business have you there?”

“I’m a
healer.”

Silence for
a moment, then a heavy wooden shutter was drawn back and a bearded face peered
out.

She held up
her bag, “These are my medicines.” She gestured about her, “I am alone as you
can see.”

“Very well.”

The doors
opened reluctantly with a great groan, just enough to let Loreglin squeeze
past. He gave the gatekeeper a nip for the inconvenience.

The streets were largely deserted, and the
hooves sounded loud on the wet cobbles. Cracks of light from behind tightly
shuttered windows were the only sign of the inhabitants. Despite this, the
docks proved easy enough to find. Not only did the road lead right down to them
but the whole quayside was ablaze with light, and alive with noise. Several
tall ships were docked, but only one was loading. Soldiers and horses waited
restlessly on the quay for their turn to board, a lean grey-haired sergeant in
charge. Nearby, a small group of well-dressed young men lounged with a bored
air, a dozen or so archers had already embarked and were busy choosing the best
spots on deck.

Gildinwen
dismounted and made her way towards the sergeant.

“Excuse me?”

“Yes, lass?”

She looked
round uncertainly at the soldiers, mostly young, fresh-faced lads, with one or
two seasoned fellows, and felt her heart begin to quail. ‘Come on,’ she told
herself, ‘Just do it, without thinking.’

“I’m a healer.
I’m going North to the battle. May I travel with your company?”

The sergeant
looked at her, taking in her travel-grimed appearance, and sweat stained horse.

“How far
have you come?”

“From
Lamedon.”

He nodded,
“We are without a healer, so your skills would be welcome.” He smiled wryly,
“And you seem used enough to hardships already.”

‘More than
you know.’ thought Gildinwen sadly.

He stuck out
his hand, “I’m Bregor Gillow.”

“Gil
Amarnon.”

The sergeant
frowned slightly, as if about to speak, but they were interrupted by a cheery
shout.

“Hurry up
now, Sergeant! The tide won’t wait while you chatter. Get your men on board.”

“Aye, aye,
Mate!” Gillow replied with a grin. “Come on then, lads.”

They boarded
quickly, and Gildinwen tethered Loreglin beside the other horses. She removed
the saddle and gave him a good rub down, and soon he was munching happily on
some scrounged hay.

She had just
found a spot to stow her belongings when there was a sound of hoof-beats from
the dockside, and a superb horse galloped into view, the magnificence of its
trappings surpassed only by the splendour of the rider. This arrival was
greeted by shouts of welcome from the young nobles Gildinwen had noticed
earlier, and the horseman guided his mount expertly up the gangway to join them.

“Falcred,
you rogue! You always keep us waiting!”

The rider
dismounted, a young man, though older than his fellows, with a soft fall of
blond hair, and a ready smile. “Ah but I’m always worth waiting for, Ragnor!”
he laughed, slapping his friend heartily on the back.

Sergeant
Gillow approached the group, and made a short bow to the newcomer. “That’s all
the company loaded, my Lord.”

“Good,
good.”

“And we have
a new addition.” He pointed down the vessel to where Gildinwen was arranging
her few possessions. “A healer, my Lord.”

“Excellent,
sergeant, I’ll have a word with her later, but first,” he interlocked his
fingers and stretched his arms above his head so the knuckles cracked, “I must
have a rest and something to eat. Get someone to take care of my horse will
you?”

“Yes, my
Lord.”

“Stand by to shove off!”

There was a
flurry of activity, both on deck and in the rigging. Gildinwen moved over to
the rail to watch as the ship moved ponderously out into the river. Behind her
she heard a loud flapping and snapping, and turned to watch as the great sails,
proud with the colours of Gondor, were lowered to catch the wind. As they
filled, the ship shuddered and plunged, and then began to gain speed against
the current, cutting swiftly through the dark waters. The banks faded into
shadow on either side. A sailor sat astride the very prow of the ship wielding
a lead and line to fathom the depth and ensure the ship kept to the centre of
the channel.

“Hello
there.” A tentative voice sounded at her elbow.

She turned
to see a lanky, fresh faced young lad, with a shock of dark hair, so like
Argilin that her breath caught.

“Hey, what’s
the matter?”

“I’m sorry.”
She apologised, “You reminded me of someone for a minute.”

“Someone
nice, I hope.”

She smiled,
“Yes, my brother.”

“Ah.” He
grinned, “Anyway, my friends and I were about to have something to eat and we
wondered if you might like to join us.”

Gildinwen’s
stomach rumbled a loud acceptance, at which they both laughed.

“I’m Tom, by
the way.”

“Gil.” They
shook hands solemnly. “Let me just fetch my blanket and I’ll be right with
you.”

Gildinwen
un-strapped the blanket from her saddle and flung it, still rolled, over her
shoulder. After a moment’s thought she also unfastened the package containing
the Banner, and improvising a strap, hung it from her shoulder.

Tom and his
friends had managed to rustle up a very respectable stew, with dumplings, and
they all tucked in with great relish.

“That,” said
Gildinwen, sitting back with a groan afterwards, “was absolutely the best meal
I’ve ever had.”

“It wasn’t
too bad, was it?” replied Will, who was the cook.

“Alright
now, lads?” Sergeant Gillow appeared out of the gloom and squatted beside them.
“Had a good feed?”

“Yes,
Sergeant.” They chorused.

“Good. Any
questions for me?”

“How long
till we get there?” asked Tom.

“If the wind
keeps up, we’ll make Minas Anor by daybreak.”

“Will we
stop there?”, this from a worried looking lad who went by the name of Rufus.

“No, lad.
We’re to carry on up past Cair Andros, and head straight for the battlefield.
Once we disembark, it’ll be about two days hard march to Dagorlad.” He looked
worried, “Besides, the landings at Osgiliath are no longer secure. We’ll need
to be on our lookout at we pass them.” He paused and looked round him at the
circle of faces, all young, all
frightened to one degree or another. He took a flask from his pocket and passed
it around. “Here lads, this’ll help a little.”

When they
had drank, he offered it to Gildinwen. She sipped cautiously, the liquid was
fiery and blazed a hot path down her throat. “Thanks,” she coughed, “I think.”
and everyone laughed.

“Right,
boys. You should all try and get some sleep, I’ve set the watch, and you’ll be
wakened if we need you.”

As the young
men shrugged gratefully under their blankets, Bregor touched Gildinwen lightly
on the shoulder, and said softly, “May I have a word with you, Gil.”

They made
their way over to the gunwale, away from the huddles of sleeping bodies. It was
quiet, besides the sough of the water and the creaking of the rigging, the only
noise was the occasional splash of the depth-sounding from the prow.

Gildinwen
leaned over the rail, taking a deep
breath of the damp air, before turning to face her companion.

“So, Bregor,
what did you want to talk to me about?”

The sergeant
looked at her intently for a long while before he spoke.

“You said
your family name was Amarnon?”

“Yes.” Gil’s
voice was guarded.

“That name
is not unfamiliar to me.”

“Go on.”

He reached
out a hand and lightly tapped the package hanging from her shoulder. “Is this
what I think it might be?”

Gildinwen
took a step back, suddenly nervous. He knew! But was that a good thing, or a
bad?

“Please.”
Gillow held up his hands. “I mean you no harm, indeed the opposite. If you are
indeed of the House of Amarnon, then I am at your service.”

Gildinwen
relaxed a little, “Yes, sergeant. I am Gildinwen, daughter of the House of
Amarnon.”

“Is it the
Banner of Prophecy that you carry?”

She met his
eyes, they were blue and guileless. “Yes, it is.”

“My Lady.”
He would have knelt but she stopped him.

“Please,
Bregor, there’s no need for anything like that. I’m no great lady. All I own is
on this ship.”

“It matters
not,” his voice was alive with hope, “you have brought the Banner. Will you
carry it in the battle?”

“To be
honest,” Gildinwen answered, “I had not thought that far ahead. My only goal
was to take it to Gil-galad.”

He nodded,
then added, “Had you no brother to bring it?”

Gildinwen
looked out at the dark water, “That was my father’s wish, but my brother died
before he could carry it out.”

“And your
father?”

“He died on
the way here, he was an old man and the journey was too much for him.”

“I’m sorry.”
He squeezed her lightly on the arm. “So you are the last of your house?”

She turned
her gaze towards him again, her forehead creased. “Yes.”

“And you are
the firstborn?”

Her eyes
widened with realisation.

“Yes, I am.”

He nodded
solemnly, “Then the prophecy refers to you. If you carry the standard into
battle then we cannot be beaten.”

“Do you
really believe that?”

“I do. And I
know that there are others who do also.”

“But what if
I’m not the one?”

Gillow
leaned forward and grasped her hands. “On a battlefield men need something to
believe in, you can give them that. If they believe they cannot be beaten then
they will not be.”

“Yes, I
think I see, it doesn’t matter whether the prophecy is true or not, if I
believe in it, then they will believe in me, and it will come true.”

“Yes.” The
Sergeant smiled at her, “Then you will carry the Banner into battle?”

“That young
whippersnapper?” growled Bregor “I was fighting in battles while he was still
in swaddling clothes!” He paused, “No, you’re right, it would be better if he
were on our side. I’ll speak to him tonight.” He glanced at the sky. “It’s
getting late, you should get some rest, my lady. Who knows what the dawn will
bring.”

This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.

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